


If you're a wolf, then I'm a wolf!

by winchysteria



Series: Sterek Drabbles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beaches, Fluff, M/M, because teen wolf is full of hot people and they all need to be wearing swimsuits, like very vague, so vague, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchysteria/pseuds/winchysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is still a dumbass, but this time it's at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you're a wolf, then I'm a wolf!

**Author's Note:**

> More inspiration from thewhiskeytango on tumblr, because Liz understands my compulsive need for Sterek prompts. It's so fluffy you're gonna die. Because fluff is all I can write.
> 
> winchysteria.tumblr.com

"No."

It had been final, or at least Derek thought it had been. No matter how pouty Lydia got, or how many times Erica poked him in the ribs, or how long Scott could hold the puppy eyes for, he was going to stay right on that goddamned couch and sleep his day away. Beach trips were for people who needed a break from their paperwork, not werewolves who had just scared a coven of witches into never using obedience spells ever again. No. Werewolves spent their vacation time catching up on the sleep they literally never got otherwise, and Derek cemented his opinion by refusing to even look at the pack that he could hear were crowded around one end of the couch. They drew away just slightly, arguing in raised whispers that he could have heard if he wanted to. Derek burrowed his head into the couch and hummed, hoping against hope that they had finally realized that was an endgame “no.” It had definitely  _been_  endgame until there was a gentle weight on the cushion next to his face and an overpowering smell of sunscreen and Derek scrunched his nose and finally pulled out his trump card, opening alpha-red eyes to see-

Stiles. Stiles, maybe six inches away, literally batting his eyelashes and moaning “pleeease, Derek” in a way that should have been annoying but instead took Derek’s mind immediately to the bedroom and a theoretical scenario in which the pack’s only actual human male said  _please, Derek_ repeatedly and with a little more of a slur every time.

This was why Derek hated having a crush on the kid. It only ended in pack mutiny and sand in his ass. And this was when everyone thought that the reason Derek was powerless against Stiles was the fact that humans weren’t prone to the powers of the Alpha Glare.

But not even Stiles and his stupid eyes and his stupid moles and his stupid sunscreen smell could prevent Derek from sleeping for at least 10 of today’s daylight hours, and so far his plan to nap on a beach towel all day was going swimmingly. The pack had wrestled him into a pair of greyish blue board shorts that he hadn’t even realized he owned, dragged him into Stiles’s jeep, and made him carry the (obscenely large) cooler of whatever the hell snacks they needed to keep fuel their shrieking, water-splashing, sand-kicking shenanigans, but that was where the proactivity had ended. He could hear them out in the waves as he lay there, a tangle of happy screaming and growling and undignified games of frisbee. He would’ve sworn that he didn’t hear enough voices, but he it was a busy beach and he was relatively confident that he could also detect the sounds of Scott and Allison making out a short distance from the others. 

And just as he was falling asleep, he was hit by a blunt wall of cold saltwater.

Ohhh, and Stiles was going to die. He absolutely was. Derek’s nerves were already wearing thin from having to watch that pest wander around in a pair of brick-red swim trunks for several hours, running his hands through his rumpled hair every five seconds from excitement and attempting pathetically to join in howling with the rest of the betas. Throwing his head back so his throat was as stretched out and visible as it got. It was completely endearing and completely sexual at the same time.

Derek hated it.

Scott was already taking off for the far end of the beach as Derek jumped to his feet, but Stiles for whatever reason was just standing there. He looked like he wanted to run but just wasn’t sure how, eyes fixed somewhere on Derek’s stomach. He was probably distracted by some train of thought and staring off into space- Lord knows he was ADD enough to do that in the middle of an attack- but was awakened by Derek’s snarl-and-pounce attempt. Stiles sprinted towards the waves, frantically discarding the water bucket bucket in the sand to his right. And Derek wasn’t so lost in the chase that he didn’t take a moment to appreciate exactly how visible the guy’s ass was in wet swim trunks.

He finally captured him as the water reached waist-level and Stiles attempted to swim for it.  _"Oh no you fucking don’t,"_ Derek actually roared, reaching both hands into the water to grab the other man by the armpits. He latched on with a grip of steel and swung Stiles up, probably intending to throw him into the nearest whitecap- he hadn’t really thought this through- but Stiles went on defensive and turned into some kind of starfish, flailing his pale, ridiculous limbs until he found something solid to cling to.

That something happened to be Derek.

The adrenaline-fuelled panic appeared to subside slightly because Stiles was now separating himself in increments from Derek’s torso. But increments was all it was. He loosened his arms a tad from where they were twisted around Derek’s neck and his legs from where they were-  _oh my god-_ wrapped around Derek’s waist. He looked down at Derek from under eyelashes that had actual sparkling droplets of water in them- and started cracking up.

The werewolf would have thought he’d been frozen to the spot. After all, here was this impossibly frustratingly attractive person basically cemented to his body, and neither of them were wearing more than swim trunks, and he was literally at eye level with the boy’s collarbone, and said attractive person was _laughing_  at him. His first instinct should have been to drop the luggage and back away at about a thousand miles per hour.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Stiles’s hips and hitched him up a little. But Stiles wasn’t letting go either, so it only made sense, right? And Stiles was laughing, so it seemed to also make sense that Derek huff out a snort that may have been amusement and grumble “What.” As if he wanted to have a conversation while Stiles was pressed against his front side, in fairly prime position to detect any  _excitement_ Derek started feeling.

Stiles controlled his wheezing for a second, making eye contact with Derek again so he could grin hugely down at him and say “What is this,  _The Notebook_?”

Derek wished the reference had gone over his head, but pack movie night last month had included that specific film. (Against the alpha’s express wishes, he might add.) And as the eye contact dragged on, he considered the fact that Stiles still hadn’t showed any sign of wanting to remove himself from his seat on Derek’s hipbones. Plus the fact that his maniacal grin had softened a little, and his eyes were on what was possibly Derek’s mouth, and that even if this wasn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel the next development seemed fairly obvious.

"If you’re a wolf, then I’m a wolf," Stiles said gleefully, leaning down as Derek leaned up.

Stiles kissed like he did everything else: enthusiastically. Even at the awkward angle, he seemed dead set on bruising Derek’s mouth within the next two minutes, running his tongue over the seam of Derek’s lips until it separated to let him in. Unable to resist, Derek nipped at Stiles’ bottom lip, making him hook his hooking together behind his back, pulling the two of them impossibly closer.

The pack, which had apparently been stunned into silence for a moment, started to cheer just as Stiles gasped  _I have been trying to resist jumping you for how long and we could have been doing this._ They pulled apart slowly, the werewolf studying Stiles’ manic grin and flushed cheeks. He was sure that they were mirrored in his own face, and though it was humiliating for him, it looked gorgeous on Stiles.

They took a moment to wave and bow- or, rather, Stiles waved and dipped his head, and Derek just buried his burning face in the other man’s collarbone- but after maybe five seconds Stiles jumped down and started pulling him out to deeper water.

Derek understood the urgency, because after all he wasn’t the only one wearing a very thin, very telling swimsuit. 


End file.
